


June 2009 Fic Bits

by Merfilly



Category: DCU, Marvel
Genre: Conspiracy, Father-Son Relationship, Fourth Wall, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-30
Updated: 2009-06-30
Packaged: 2018-01-13 09:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1221109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A piece of crack, a dark fic, and father's day...</p>
            </blockquote>





	June 2009 Fic Bits

"There are days I really can't believe this shit." News clippings from major events centering on the many earths in the skies, and the events leading to that point, were scattered with a flick of a hand. "You'd think they all thought I was nothing more than a mindless killer."

He took a hard drink of his scotch, making a face at the lack of the smooth he was used to...but it was a dive.

"As many times as I was held by someone, as much blood and DNA as I had left at all the crap I've gotten into ever since the damn HIVE drug me into the costumed side of things...and they all say its me without a by-your-leave."

Slade shook his head. "I'm going to find the bastard. And I'm going to make him regret the day he chose or was made to be me." He looked dead straight at the non-existent reader that Wade Wilson had insisted was out there. "And that's going to be it for the Terminator being willing to do a damn thing for anyone. Just got to find me a writer..."

* * *

There was nothing but shock in the eyes of the billionaire as the pain flared. The warm, liquid seeping from the wound added to the surreal atmosphere of the moment. Staggering back, he slid down the wall of the elevator, leaving an ugly smear on the art nouveau design.

"Why..."

"We've been friends, yes. In both your lives. I hoped I would find some way to be certain your crusade could be used for the true good of Gotham."

Speech was almost beyond the stricken man, as he watched the gunman turn to look at the floors each light up. "Please..." he choked out.

"I can't, Bruce. The Brotherhood is firm in its calculations. The Batman must die, or the city will descend into hell. Each year that passes, your crusade brings us closer to that. How can you deny it, given all the losses in your own 'family'?"

The assailant looked at him again, saw the look of defiance, even in the face of the darkening vision. There was genuine regret on his aged face, so many lines of the battles that had all but been lost in recent years.

"You would never have stopped. This is the only way." The doors opened, and the Commissioner of Gotham's police force calmly left the elevator, as Bullock and associates entered to handle the unfortunate suicide of Mister Wayne.

* * *

There are moments in every man's life that he can never let slip from his memory.

Jonathan Kent is no exception to the rule. He can tell you every hardship his farm has ever seen in the general way that old men reminisce, and he can tell you the good years that same way.

But ask him about his wife, and he can fill in the details crisp and clear, from the minute they met until the present, every single moment that meant more than just breathing in their life together.

He likes doing it to, to see the color rise in her cheeks, at the way he gets earthily poetic about his wife.

Ask him about his son, and it's something a little different. He'll tell the tale that everyone has known for years about Clark Kent, just the way it was filled out in all the official records.

The crisp, beautiful, and harrowing details, however, are locked away in his mind's eye. Those can't be shared, not until the day Clark comes asking difficult questions.

Then, all the little details, bright and shining, or dark and difficult, boil up, airing in truth for the first time since they came to pass.

Clark's thankful for it, for the way Pa tells him the facts. It leaves him walking even taller, to know he was found by a man who patently loves him as if he were his own blood, no matter how Clark had come into their lives.

Jonathan just smiles. It's what fathers do.

* * *


End file.
